The pen is poised, impatient for inspiration to strike.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

.Anonymous Numbers.

You loved me once and maybe I loved you too. I don't know. I love a lot of people. We
Used to sit on rooftops smoking for the stars, for the dawn, for each other. I think we
Misplaced a whole month of sleep. That's for how long I loved you. I don't know if you
Loved me longer. Maybe. I don't know. I've been loved by a lot of people. Perhaps you
Thought you loved me. That happens a lot. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I
Think of the numerical buildings you used to draw. I think I understand them better now. I
Think I understand more better now. I think that maybe now I am just a number to you.
That's alright with me, you know. I just wanted to say that it made me sad to see you
And feel distant enough to avoid a hello. You've been inside me, I thought. Once, when we
were two numbers in the same building. What made me sadder still was not that we
are strangers now. In fact, it had nothing to do with you at all. I was floating, rapt up in my own world. I
Thought I was a stranger. I saw you see me and then I was more than just I.

Someone saw me and suddenly I wasn't anonymous.

1 comment:

  1. This is so beautiful. I have just discovered your blog.

    I'm looking forward to reading more of it.



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I laugh, I live, I think, I write (not necessarily in that order)... padam, padam indeed, Ms. Piaf. This poetry is almost always spontaneous and almost rarely edited.